


Rumination

by MasteroftheCrypticArts



Series: Optiverse [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 15:03:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17226236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MasteroftheCrypticArts/pseuds/MasteroftheCrypticArts
Summary: Doctor Strange monologues about the idea of being a superhero.





	Rumination

Ever since being inducted as a Master of the Mystic Arts, I've pondered my position as a protector and keeper of the peace. The doctrines of my school teach that we should aspire to "enlighten" all beings through unwavering service to others. Even through service that demands self-compromise. Self-sacrifice. That's why we are disciples of the _Vajrayana_.¹ We are the Lightning that strikes. But as an individual, as someone who has gained powers semi-comparable to those of enhanced saviors, I'm conscious of my place in and out of society on a near-daily basis. I'm a human being but I've never felt so alien. I go about my day-to-day life sequestered, fulfilling my duties in private. Usually from the comfort of my own home. But I can't always stay hidden.  
  
I try to keep myself out of the public eye when having to combat foreign, mystic entities but I'm aware that there have been documented sightings of me made by civilians. Every once in a while I'll get curious and browse online. I've seen the forums. People make the wildest speculations about me, from my real name to the finer details of my private life. (To the specific author who assumed that my name is Dexter—I look like a _Dexter_ to you?) There's also apparently an ongoing debate about whether “Optimystic” or “The Optimyst” should be my _superhero title_. I think because I _may_ have been overheard mouthing off at an opponent who had me in a bind once.² I'm not an optimist. I'm a realist. But I guess the name works, given the etymology. _Opti-_ meaning “light,” and _mystic_ —  
  
Okay yeah, maybe I owe some credit to myself for unwitting cleverness. And to the witness who shared their story on Reddit. I think I'll leave it alone for now. See how it holds up.  
  
But am I a hero? No. Am I a _super_ hero? Definitely not. The work I do is more _proactive_ than _reactive_. I'm an overseer. A guardian. All of us Masters are. People like us don't usually publicize our "heroic" feats. In fact, we make a point not to. We conceal ourselves and keep to the periphery of polite society's eye. We do this to spare civilization the knowledge of horrors describable and indescribable. Despite this, there are bound to be occasions where publicity—where _knowledge_ —can't be helped. They're inevitable.  
  
I've seen the YouTube videos. Shaky camera shots, breathless commentary, expletives and all. I've sometimes actually caught people recording me at scenes of ongoing fights. I don't like breaking cell phones or video cameras. I leave it to chance. If their devices get smashed when I drop them to safety from an active battleground, that's on them. To the people taking those videos—what's wrong with you? I'm out there saving you and you put your life at risk _anyway_ to capture a five-second light show? Asinine. Completely asinine. Stop being idiots and seek shelter _immediately_.  
  
I've _also_ seen the _"fan-fiction."_ I'm especially taken by those audacious few who shamelessly publish _smut_ about me. It turns out that there are online archives chock full of fetishistic stories that fantasize about heroes. The majority of these works _pair us up_. I'm surprised to say that my initial disgust for this discovery, once thought irrevocable, has morphed into base appreciation. In a way, it's flattering. Sometimes it manages to be amusing. More than once I've been tempted to leave anonymous comments on works to criticize flawed premises ("Um, _actually_ I would _top_ [so-and-so].") and nitpick erroneous details ("I hate strawberry jam."). The prospect of fan-fiction evokes a conflict of emotions. It repels my inner dignitary yet appeals to my inner egotist.  
  
In short, I can take it or leave it.  
  
I've come to lead a pretty lonely life. I wouldn't say I have a relationship with my " _fan base_ ," but I feel a certain closeness with these not-so-secret admirers. I smile seeing people express praise and gratitude to me. It helps when I find myself lapsing into periods of demoralized drudgery. (I have a high threshold but my fortitude isn't infallable; I do get depressed and overwhelmed.) My spirit is reinvigorated as I set about my tasks, thanks to these people. But sometimes I worry about the extent to which some of them puzzle over my presence. I can't help thinking about the consequences should my base of operations be discovered, should my identity be fully unveiled.  
  
I try to go unnoticed but I don't go to lengths to hide.  
  
Sooner or later, some old colleague, employer, or friend is going to connect the dots on their own. I already connected those dots for Christine and Nic. Among others. (Whether or not they've noticed is another matter.) But even if the world comes to know me by my name—even if it is amazed that the fallen neurosurgeon _Dr. Stephen Strange_ has risen up from his own ashes with a new mantle—I don't need fame. I don't want prestige, or parades, or a Key to the City. I don't need public recognition to know my own greatness. I _am great_. I just can't allow my greatness to overshadow the causes I've dedicated myself to serving. I made that mistake once already and my unchecked hubris was my downfall. That cannot happen again.  
  
But I'll be damned if I'm not gonna get a kick or two out of being able to do the shit that I can do.

**Author's Note:**

> ¹ Headcanon: The Masters of the Mystic Arts are a school derived from Tibetan Buddhism, namely a Buddhist path called the Lightning/Diamond Vehicle.
> 
> ² Headcanon: Stephen once was a wise ass when he was between a rock and a hard place during a conflict. After assuring his adversary that he would be beaten despite having the odds so heavily pinned against him, he was asked just how he was so certain. Stephen sarcastically answered, "Call me optimistic." This was overheard by an unnamed civilian who dared to sneak in close to the action. Of course, shortly after, Stephen did wrench himself out and succeeded in vanquishing his opponent. Said civilian escaped the scene unnoticed. He misunderstood the context of the quote and mistook Stephen for identifying himself.


End file.
